<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Jusqu'à la Toute Fin (Until the Very End) by oilpainter</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622326">Jusqu'à la Toute Fin (Until the Very End)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oilpainter/pseuds/oilpainter'>oilpainter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, I forgot this fic even existed, I wrote this years ago, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Mentions of Death, Pre-Revolution, Revolutionaries In Love, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tragic Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:35:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oilpainter/pseuds/oilpainter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A week before Barricade Day, Jehan and Courfeyrac discuss the revolution, the future, and their love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jusqu'à la Toute Fin (Until the Very End)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Courfeyrac smiled as he played with Jehan’s hair, twirling it around his fingers and plaiting it lovingly. It was soft and, as he smelled it in a totally non-creepy way, it had the scent of primroses and daffodils that Jehan grew on his balcony during the summer. Jehan was dozing in Courf’s arms, waking up occasionally to write down a line of poetry which had struck him in a dream, or to kiss his lover passionately.</p><p>They had not a care in the world. To them, it seemed as if the world had stopped for a moment and everything was peaceful. The revolution was a mere week away but Courfeyrac wasn’t worried about that right now. All he cared about was that infuriating little strand of his boyfriend’s hair which was refusing to cooperate-</p><p>Jehan shifted and sighed, cuddling his boyfriend in his sleep. His hair tickled Courfeyrac’s nose, making him sniff then sneeze loudly. He groaned then sneezed several more times, the hay fever which troubled him this time of year making it worse.</p><p>“À tes souhaits,” the sleepy poet murmured, still not opening his eyes but handing him an unused hanky from one of his pockets. Jehan was a man of many pockets and was known to carry odd bits-and-bobs everywhere with him. On one rare occasion that he had been drinking with Grantaire, he had been dared to empty all his pockets and produced a stethoscope, five dolls, a pack of cards, two daisy chains, an infant's shoe and a flute. Joly had been proud of him for always carrying a stethoscope with him, but Courfeyrac was more concerned about where the shoe had come from. </p><p>Jehan rolled over onto Courfeyrac, messing up the plait that the latter had been attempting. His head was now resting on Courf’s shoulder, his warm breath tickling his neck, and their legs were tangled together, making it impossible for the law student to escape. He snored a little, having fallen asleep again straight away, and Courfeyrac grinned a little.</p><p>Then a sharp elbow lodged itself in his side.</p><p>“Oof – Jehan,” he exclaimed, moving his boyfriend’s arm and waking him up. He blinked, giving him an innocent look and smiling apologetically.</p><p>“Ah, sorry, mon amour.” Jehan kissed him gently on the cheek and snuggled up next to him. Courf forgave him instantly. He continued to play with Jehan’s strawberry-blond hair, giving up with the fancy hairstyle and instead running his fingers through it, letting it loose. It shone in the morning light and cascaded onto his shoulders. “We should get up soon,” the poet continued.</p><p>Courfeyrac sighed. He didn’t want to face reality but knew he had to. The birds chirpily singing outside the window and the sounds of the horses and carts in the street below reminded him that Paris existed and that the world was still moving during their little moment of peace. Today was going to be busy; they had a rally, and after that he needed to hand out some leaflets and help in the search for ammunition. Not to mention he had an exam this afternoon… but somehow his studies felt insignificant compared to the work he had to do for the revolution. <em>Perhaps I’ll skip the exam</em>, Courfeyrac thought to himself. <em>After all, we get the results in two week’s time, by which time I might be dead.</em></p><p>Courfeyrac quickly diverted his thoughts from their possible impending doom.</p><p>He trusted Enjolras.</p><p>Enjolras wouldn’t willingly lead his Amis to their deaths, would he?</p><p>“Five more minutes,” he muttered. “Let’s just stay here for five more minutes and have fun being alive while we can.”</p><p>Jehan’s eyes widened and he looked up at his lover, concerned. “Don’t say that, Fey,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows. Courfeyrac couldn’t stop himself from thinking that he looked incredibly cute.</p><p>“It’s true though,” Courf said quietly. “I just want to stay with you and kiss you … before we might die in the revolution.”</p><p>“Are you saying you would not fight?” Jehan asked, sitting up and leaving his boyfriend cold without the heat of their body contact. He narrowed his eyes, looking angry, which very rarely happened, but when it did Courfeyrac was always scared for his life. An angry Jean Prouvaire was his worst nightmare.</p><p>“Of course I will!” he exclaimed. “I truly believe that we are doing the right thing, that the revolution will be glorious and France will be freed – but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared.”</p><p>Jehan sighed and started to lazily flick through the poetry book in his hands, fiddling with the corners of the pages. He was now sat cross-legged on the bed and the sunlight shone on his face, making his eyelashes look blonder. He had a worried, resigned expression and was biting his fingernails anxiously. Courfeyrac had never seen anyone more beautiful. “I’m not scared,” the poet finally said, resolutely. “Vive la France. Long live the future. What is there to be afraid of?”</p><p>Courfeyrac held his hand and kissed it. “I’m not scared for myself. I'm scared of losing you, mon amour. The day that I lose you will be the day that all happiness is taken from my life and I will have no purpose.”</p><p>Jehan’s eyes sparkled with stubborn tears which refused to fall. “No – no, you have a purpose without me. You must be brave. You must fight. If you lose me, you must carry on in my name, as I would do the same for you.”</p><p>“It would tear me apart,” Courfeyrac whispered.</p><p>“Your death would destroy me too but I would refuse to give up. I won’t give up until every child is off the streets, I won’t give up until the people are free. I won’t give up until I myself am six feet underground.”</p><p><em>God I love this man</em>, Courf thought. “I will fight for what I believe in,” he decided. “I cannot bear to see a world without you so I too will fight until the very end.”</p><p>“Vive la République,” Jehan said boldly.</p><p>“Vive l’avenir,” Courfeyrac murmured, kissing his boyfriend’s head. “Je t’aime.”</p><p>“I love you,” Jehan replied. “Until the very end.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>